What Became of that Kingdom?
by Daring Dashwood
Summary: None remain who know. Tired of waiting for the hero to succeed, the Goddesses decide to take matters into their own hands. Post MM OoT.


**What Became of that Kingdom?**

_None remain who know. _

**A/n –** _I've never written from the Goddesses' POV, and I have to say, it's quite interesting. I might just have to write more about them._

**Warning:** _References to the Zelda Comics, Majora's Mask, and Lost._

* * *

Nayru had had enough.

Let me choose a hero, Farore had said. Let me chose a champion to fight Din for us. It was a most illogical notion—a mere mortal stood not even a second's chance against the might of even herself, the weakest of the Trinity—but she humored the idea anyway. It was imprudent and foolhardy, but she raised no objection. Why?

Because it was _Farore_. Farore, with her forever reaching compassion, her unending love, her tendency to be so stubbornly adamant about she believed in—she was captivating, the carnation of the wild wind that was freedom itself. So Nayru found herself so inundated with her sister's colossal emotions that she was moved to do things so achingly _idiotic_ that she couldn't resist marveling at the complexity and strength of their relationship. She often found herself musing if Farore knew all along how hooked, how addicted Nayru was to her irresistible, enthusiastic pull. How wrapped around her sister's finger she was.

So she had granted her desire. Instead of pursuing Din herself, (either healing the painfully vast wedge between them or perish trying) she sat back in the Sacred Realm and waited whilst Farore threw chosen one after chosen one in Din's direction. The strongest of the third had merely laughed at that, her chuckles reverberating like distant thunder across the endless plain of existence they dwelled in. Nayru had thought that might be the end of it, but then Din went and tossed her own selected pawn onto the chessboard of their immortal lives. It made her wonder—was Din under Farore's proverbial spell as well?

So she waited.

And waited.

And waited for hundreds of years as Farore's Link would slay the giant boar, only for the latter to resurface from his freshly dug grave with the aid of Din's strong, flaming arms, ready for yet another round.

So when Ganondorf arose to power whilst Link was trapped in Termia (she still sporadically felt that uncharacteristic, irrational flash of anger jolt through her whenever she thought of those blasphemers) she finally stood her ground against her emerald sister.

They'd been talking about something vague and unimportant when she'd stated, "I refuse to do this anymore, Farore."

Her sister was blank as the depth of Nayru's words oozed through the pores of her perfect gold skin, her sturdy ivory bones, her throbbing vermillion blood, and the Goddess of Wisdom allowed herself to revel in the beautiful silence that was shock. Farore had become so accustomed to having what she wanted, she simply didn't know how to act when it was all violently ripped away from her without so much as a "gimme".

Well, that was too bad.

"This—this experiment has gone on far longer than necessary. You're refusing to see the truth that has been shoved in your face century after century. Link will courageously defeat Ganondorf—" Farore scowled as her frequently used words were thrown back at her. "—only for him to rise again like the everlasting phoenix. Nothing is going to change this time, or the time after that."

Jaw and fists clenched painfully tight—Nayru could smell the copper blood as it burst from the strength of her nails—Farore spat, "So what is it exactly that you're suggesting, Nayru?" The name was like a curse on her lips, but Nayru refused to give even the slightest inch on this. If that meant the end of their long lasting friendship, then so be it. "Should we just abandon our people in their time of need? That we should allow Ganondorf to run loose, intoxicated with Din's prodigious fury? It'll be the Imprisoning War all over again; no, it'll be even worse."

"That's not what I'm suggesting—no, going to do—at all. There will no longer be a need for Links. I will deal with Ganondorf myself, and then go after Din."

"But we cannot interfere with free will," Farore insisted. "If we strike down Ganondorf, it'll be clear that it was our doing. People will have no choice but to acknowledge us, and that's not how it should be. Our people should come to us of their own desire and choice, not out of fear."

Nayru couldn't help but be insulted, a hot anger growing in her gut, as Farore talked as if the former was clueless in the matter of human freedom. "You think I do not know that? I do not plan to just strike down the Gerudo man alone."

Farore's emerald eyes widened with a blend of shock and rarely seen fear. "You're not thinking of—"

"This world was a failure. We gave every race, every country ample opportunity to prove their worth. And each and every time they threw away our gesture of kindness, either too stubborn or too blinded by pride to pass the test. They are unworthy of our attentions; it's time to start again."

"But we cannot just—"

"Why do you care so much for these people? You had no qualms with the flipping of Ikana."

"They were blackguards and fools, nothing like the Hylians."

"Listen to yourself! You care not of the Zoras, the Gerudos, nor the Gorons: only the Hylians. No, not even the Hylians—all you care for in this rotting, looping world is Link."

"Because he is _perfect_!" Farore burst, not even trying to deny the sharp truth to Nayru's cutting words. "Time and time again, he is the epitome of what they all should be. He is courageous, intelligent, and powerful—the embodiment of all three of us. Once he recognizes this, he will posses all three of our golden powers. Imagine what good he will do for the Hylians—for _all_ of them!"

"You've already tried that before, and it was only with Zelda's aid did he stop from transforming into Ganondorf completely! Why are you so insistent on repeating the same mistakes over and over again?"

"That's what you don't understand, Nayru. It only ends once; anything that comes before that is just progress."

"….I'm not going to argue with you anymore, Farore. You've had your fun. Now it's my turn."

* * *

By the time Link managed to get out of Termia and hunt down Navi's location, it was too late. A few fairies at some miscellaneous fountain had informed him of his friend's fate. She'd been wandering through the Lost Woods when she happened upon a small child. Kafei had been his name. (Link had smiled a little at that.) Apparently, he'd gone off in search of a wolfos who had been stealing cuckoos from his friend Anju. He'd tracked the beast all the way from Kakariko to deep into the Lost Woods, where the wolfos' entire pack had been lying in wait.

It was a miracle the boy had managed to survive. But he wouldn't have very long to savor the gift the goddesses had given him; though he had escaped with his life, the massive amount of blood loss was tossing him back into Death's greedy hands.

Reminded of Link's courage by Kafei, Navi healed him just as his heart had begun to give out on him.

And it had cost Navi her life.

Greif like Link had never felt before smashed into him like a tsunami, ravaging his heart and soul before spitting him back out again on the shores of despair.

World weary and miserable, Link thanked the fairies and set off for the Kokiri Forest. Whenever he'd had to deal with something he wasn't fully prepared for as a child, he had gone to the Great Deku Tree. The wise sage had never judged him, never admonished him—Link had never felt afraid or stupid to ask a question in his calming presence.

Maybe the sprout would be able to supply the same knowledge, the same solace as his predecessor.

* * *

"Mido? Fado?" Link called uncertainly into the unusually quiet forest, left hand resting warily on the hilt of the gilded sword. The Hylian had set out after dawn purposefully so that the Kokiri Tribe would be out and about—playing ancient games they never seemed to tire of—when he arrived. Although he had entered into his teenage years and thus virtually unrecognizable to them, he found himself often missing the many friends of his youth.

He _expected_ to be greeted with curiosity by his old friends.

He _feared _that something had happened during his time—how many months (years?) had it been again?—spent in Termia.

He _found_ nothing. Panic fluttered like insane butterflies in his chest as he ran breathlessly from house to house, finding _no one_.

An entire secluded village of children didn't just vanish. The Hero of Time's mind flashed like lightning to a man he could never forget: Ganondorf. Even with the aid of Zelda and the sages, the best their combined efforts producing only in sealing the boar away. A temporary solution to a permanent problem.

But how could he know for sure it was he?

"The Deku Sprout," Link answered his own question as he spun on his heel, out of the house he'd been stepping into. He was a great deal calmer now that he had a purpose, and allowed himself to slow his sprint to a very fast jog. It wouldn't end prettily if he was ambushed whilst wheezing for breath.

Now that he slowed down a little, the Hylian began to realize that something seemed…off about the forest. There were no birds chirping, no squirrels frolicking, not even a bokubaba lunged out of the darkness of the foliage to attack him. The eerie silence was deafening.

Link halted as he reached the clearing in the forest, blood freezing to crimson ice in his shocked veins.

"No…"

The Deku Sprout had shriveled and died, a few brown leaves still clinging to it. As if that wasn't painful enough, the hero found the children. They were strewn around the clearing like discarded dolls, mouths open in silent screams. Something acrid and yellowed was everywhere—in piles around the Kokiri, dribbling down their chins, staining the wood of the sprout. Closer inspection revealed it to be a nasty mixture of bile and what appeared to be internal organs.

And then his heart began to beat again, and he staggered back away from the carnage, tears streaming freely, a cry of unrestrained horror bursting free from his lips.

Link had seen many terrible things before this; it came with the territory. He would never forget the words of a dying, unnamed soldier he found in an alley, the slick sensation of blood wetting his hands, the thousands of souls crying out in agony as the moon fell. But how do you cope when the bodies on the ground are people you played with, the people who taught you all that you know?

Unable to stand it any longer, the Hylian fled. Stumbling away from the clearing in the forest like a drunk, Link gave a feeble whistle for his horse. Epona approached him, unusually sluggish for a mare as lively as her. She released a low whicker.

"Epona?" Link petted her crest softly, and was alarmed to feel the horse trembling and sweating underneath his fingertips. "Are you hurt?"

He began to probe for injuries he somehow missed, but didn't get far before the mare gave a loud snort and reared, kicking Link hard in the chest. Winded and in pain, he could only gasp and wheeze as his horse staggered away from his crumpled form. Epona stumbled on a loose rock, fell, and didn't get back up.

Finally regaining much needed oxygen, Link hobbled over to the mare's side. Yellow spittle, strongly resembled what had been splattered over the Kokiri children, was frothing at her mouth.

Link thought he was going to be sick; and in a few minutes, he was vomiting up his half digested breakfast, stomach acid tinting his tongue.

* * *

Link ended up not burying them, the children and his horse. As important as they were to him, Hyrule came first. There was not the slightest shred of doubt in his mind (unless you counted wishful thinking as doubt) that whatever Ganondorf had unleashed upon the forest had also been let loose in Hyrule. With a handful of luck and possibly the Goddesses' help, there might be survivors, people who were immune to the illness.

He wouldn't—couldn't—believe anything otherwise. Hyrule wasn't Termia; it couldn't _end_. Not like this. Never like this.

The hero stepped carefully over the broken drawbridge leading into Hyrule Castle Town, prepared for the worst.

At first he was disappointed. At first glance, it appeared to be a ghost town. Nothing alive (or dead, thankfully) graced the cobblestone streets. All shutters were drawn tight, and every door he tried was locked.

It was when he got to the square his worst fears were confirmed. Link had been too late to help Hyrule Castle Town as well. The town square was heaped high with mounds of rotted, yellowed flesh—they could hardly be called people, not anymore.

One limp form in particular caught his eye. Gasping, he shouted, "Zelda?"

Zelda raised her head tiredly, flickering to life at the familiar voice. "Link!" she moaned, dragging her ill form towards the hero with her last remaining arm—the other had already bloated, decayed, and fallen off. Did that happen last week? A day ago? In the last hour? The princess couldn't remember. Her normally pristine mind was frayed and sick, as if her brain was rotting as well as the rest of her body. The princess's mouth curved into a sardonic grimace. It probably was.

The Hero of Time rushed to her side, turning her fragile body over and cradling her with his strong arms. She flopped like a suffocating fish in his grasp before he managed to steady her, tilting her chin up to look at him.

"What happened, Zelda? Is Ganondorf the cause of this?" Although speaking to her, his eyes were directed elsewhere. The children, he couldn't stop staring at the goddamn _children—_

The princess's head had lolled to the side as he questioned her, eyelids fluttering madly. "Zelda!" He shouted, and she jerked to attention, weary aqua meeting worried emerald. "Tell me what happened. Tell me how Ganondorf did this!"

"Ganon…" The Hylian woman mumbled, sounding as if she'd just heard the name for the first time. Then her eyes cleared slightly, and Zelda gave the smallest shake of her head. "N-no…Ganon came back but…but…he's d-duh-dead too. I was so h-happy…but then…then it came here."

"So this is a natural plague then?" He knew he shouldn't have come, shouldn't have risked exposing himself even more to the disease (deep down he knew what he'd find) but Link couldn't find it within him to leave Zelda. In a different time, a different place, maybe they could've…

Link had expected his last question to be rhetorical, but the Princess of Hyrule surprised him by shaking her head again.

"Then who—"

The hero cut himself off as Zelda twisted away from him, puking up yellowed guts and stringy bile. When her heaving finally tapered off, she clutched a boney, jittering hand to Link's tunic, pulling him closer to her. With her hoarse, last breaths, she whispered:

"It was the Goddesses."

Stunned at the revelation, Link could only stare dumbly as Zelda began to hack again. A lump looking suspiciously the size of a heart wedged itself in her small throat. She writhed and jerked as she clawed at it helplessly, eyes bulging with panic.

And then it was over.

There was no gradual change—she just…froze. Her hands—now encrusted with the flaking blood of her neck—slipped from her throat and fell to the cobblestone. Her blue eyes were still thrown wide open, as if she was still in disbelief of her own death. Link felt the hot tears run down his cheeks for the second time in one day as he closed her unseeing eyes. He cupped her cheek; some faint warmth still lingered there, and he felt the sobs become gut-wrenching.

There was nothing left for him. Everyone he had ever known, everyone he'd ever cared about, was gone. Dead. Hacked up various internal body parts until there was nothing left. And why was that?

Face flushed with anger, Link rose, shouting to the blackened sky, "Why did you do this? What have we done that was worth such a punishment?"

His voice echoed across the dying, brown plains, the only sound for miles, but there was no response.

"Oh, so you're ignoring me now?" He was beginning to feel an unusual scratchy sensation in the back of his throat, but he ignored it, too furious to notice anything else. Link shoved his left hand, palm down, towards the heavens. "You chose _me_! I've saved two of your worlds by your request; you should at least have the decency to answer me!"

But the Goddesses once again denied Link's demand. The hero opened his mouth to shout again, but was cut off by a bought of painful coughing. Sagging to his knees, he hacked bubbling blood into his clammy palm. His lungs quivered dangerously with each rattling, savage cough.

Lifeblood dribbling down his chin, the Hero of Time raised his head weakly. "Whatever we've done to deserve this…I'm sorry. I…." Unable to continue, Link collapsed, trembling fingers clutching over the flesh of his chest.

Farore wept, Nayru watched, and Din laughed as the last man's heart shuddered to a jerking stop.

It was time to move on.

And Nayru had always been fond of the name Adam.

* * *

-Fin-

A/n – One day I'll write something so fluffy you'll get cavities from it. Today is not that day.

-The-Sharp-Machete-


End file.
